A Faraway Place
by Boogum
Summary: The mission was simple: go to Timbuktu and retrieve the dark object before it fell into the wrong hands. Unfortunately, Ginny's partner just happened to be Draco Malfoy, and he made life anything but simple.
1. To the Sands of Timbuktu

This story was written for **Aerileigh's** prompt in _The DG Forum Fic Exchange – Winter 2010_. It won the award for best characterisation of Ginny. Many thanks to all who supported my fic, and a special thank you to Iris for being such a patient and wonderful beta.

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**To the Sands of Timbuktu**

"Let me get this straight," Hermione said, frowning as she watched her sister-in-law pack. "You're being sent to Timbuktu on a mission to protect a curse-breaker who is trying to retrieve a magical object the Ministry has told you nothing about, nor, for that matter, can tell you the exact location of."

"That's right."

"And the curse-breaker you're supposed to be protecting is Draco Malfoy."

There was a pause as both women considered this unfortunate fact.

"Well, it might not be so bad," Hermione observed, attempting cheerfulness.

Ginny closed her wardrobe door with a snap. "You're right, Hermione. I don't know why I'm getting so upset; I mean, who wouldn't jump at the chance to play Knight in Shining Armour for a man as wonderful as Draco Malfoy. I'm just thrilled to be going to a foreign and potentially dangerous country with him to help him look for a magical object I know nothing about. It'll feel just like going on holiday." She clapped her hands together, raising her eyes to the ceiling with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Oh, I simply can't wait. It's going to be such fun."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You know, Ginny, there is such a thing as being too sarcastic."

"I'll keep that in mind," the redhead responded, zipping up her bag. She placed her hands on her hips and glanced about her bedroom. "I _think_ that's everything I need. Of course, it would help if those muffin-scoffing idiots at the Ministry would actually tell me about what to expect in the countries I'm exploring, but that's clearly asking too much of them."

"We've always known the Department of Mysteries have a penchant for being vague with details."

"Vague? Please, Hermione, they're just lazy. You know what Natalie said when I asked her if there were any specific diseases I need to get immunised for? _Look it up yourself_," Ginny mimicked in a nasally voice, "_I'm not your information point_." The redhead scowled at the memory. "I'll show her a bloody information point. If I die from malaria while in that hellhole with Malfoy, you had better sue the stuck-up bimbo for me."

Hermione smiled and handed Ginny her coat. "Ginny, if you die while on this mission, I will not only sue Natalie, but the whole department of muffin-scoffing idiots, as you so nicely phrased it."

The redhead grinned. "I knew there was a reason I wanted Ron to marry you."

"And I here I thought you wanted us to marry because I made him happy."

"That too, but your knowledge of the law does come in handy when I want someone fired."

Hermione laughed. "You are a terrible person, Ginevra Weasley, do you know that?"

"Alas, it is my greatest affliction." Ginny glanced at her watch and swore under her breath. "Looks like I'm going to be late."

"You're leaving now?"

"I'm on a tight schedule for this mission," she replied, shrugging on her coat and picking up her bag. "The Ministry believes there's a chance that Malfoy and I might not be the only ones searching for the object."

"Are you going to be alright?"

"Of course. I'm not the Ministry's best Defence Against the Dark Arts expert for nothing." Ginny gave the brunette a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "I'll see you when I get back. Give my love to everyone, and tell Mum not to fret! I'll be back to eat her ghastly stews and listen to her plague me about settling down with a nice, respectable man before she knows it."

Hermione shook her head, unable to repress a smile. "Goodbye, Ginny. And good luck!"

Ginny saluted and then Disapparated with a crack, materialising at the meeting point with her bag in hand and an apology already tumbling off her lips. No matter how much she loathed Draco Malfoy, she was still professional enough to know that turning up late for their departure was poor behaviour on her part. The redhead fell silent, however, when she discovered that her only companion was a house-elf, who was currently staring at her through bewildered green eyes.

"Where is everybody?" Ginny demanded, paling as she wondered if the blond had left without her.

"Master is saying goodbye to his lady friend," the elf responded primly.

Ginny's jaw tightened. "And who would your master be, exactly?"

"Master Malfoy, of course."

"Of course," she repeated, turning away from the elf. "Well, isn't this a brilliant way to start my trip. I turn up late only to discover that my darling partner is too busy saying goodbye to his 'lady friend' to even meet me."

"Bonky apologises on Master's behalf, but Master was certain Miss Wheezy would not mind waiting for him for a bit longer, considering Miss Wheezy's notion of punctuality."

"Oh, he said that, did he?" Ginny responded, giving a short laugh. "And what does your Master know about my notion of punctuality?"

"Bonky is not privileged to disclose that information. Bonky is only repeating what Master said."

"Well, Bonkers—"

"Bonky," the elf corrected in a dignified, if rather squeaky, voice.

"Whatever," Ginny said, waving her hand dismissively. "The point is that your master knows nothing about me, and, contrary to his opinion, I do not appreciate him making me wait like this at all."

"Forgive me, Miss, but Bonky cannot help but point out that Miss Wheezy was late as well."

Ginny stared at the elf with increasing dislike. "Yes, and you like to talk in third person. Funny world, isn't it?"

Bonky looked rather offended, but Ginny ignored the creature and sat down on the ground, deciding that if she was going to be stuck around here for a while, she might as well be comfortable.

She reclined against her bag, wondering how long Draco was going to make her wait while he finished with his 'lady friend'. It was a shame that he was the one who had all the information about where they were going, as well as the Portkey that would actually take them to Africa. He had been the one initially assigned to the mission; she had just been tagged on at the end because the Ministry didn't want to take any chances, much to both of their displeasure. Ginny had no doubt that Draco was making her wait like this simply because he could. He had never liked her – not that she had ever given him reason to. The only thing they had ever agreed upon was their own mutual loathing of each other.

"And now I'm going to be stuck with him for Merlin knows how long," she sighed, dropping her head back to stare at the sky.

"Did Miss Wheezy say something?" Bonky asked, staring at her warily.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Not to you, Blinky."

"It's Bonky," the elf sighed, more to himself.

"Blinky, Blocky – I don't care." She settled herself more comfortably against her bag and closed her eyes. "You never get my name right, so why should I care about yours?"

"How charming," a familiar voice drawled. "Not only do you like to terrify every man in the country, but you've also taken to terrorising the house-elves for having speech impediments. You're a real bundle of civility, aren't you, Weasley?"

Ginny sat up with a jerk, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the handsome blond standing before her. "Well, look who's finally decided to show up," she said dryly. "So glad you could finally leave your whore for the day to join me. I hope it wasn't a tearful goodbye."

"You would certainly know about tearful goodbyes, wouldn't you, Weasley?" Draco replied with poisonous sweetness. "Except, of course, men _run away_ crying from you."

"Very funny," she snapped. "Look, let's just skip the insults and get on with it. We're already behind schedule thanks to you, and the sooner we find this damn object, the sooner we can go our separate ways."

"That's fine with me."

He dismissed Bonky, who was more than happy to escape from Ginny, and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small candle.

"What's that?" Ginny asked, slinging her bag back over her shoulder and getting to her feet.

"The Portkey. It's been set to leave in exactly—" he glanced at his watch "—one minute."

"That doesn't leave us much time."

"I thought you wanted to hurry and get this mission over and done with," he responded, amused.

"I do, but it would be nice to know where we're actually going."

"We're going to Timbuktu."

"Well, I know _that_, but surely you must know more about the object's specific location. I mean, if it was in the city itself, people would have already found it already, don't you think?"

"You obviously need to learn your history, Weasley. The point is that people _did_ find it; that's how the Ministry discovered the object's existence." He frowned. "Haven't you read any of the briefings?"

"I read what they gave me; it's not my problem the Ministry are too lazy to be detailed with their briefings."

"Perhaps they thought the important information would be too difficult for your mind to comprehend," he mused. "You are supposed to be the brawns of this partnership."

Ginny's eyes narrowed, but he only smiled sweetly and then held out the candle to her.

"You might want take hold of the Portkey, Weasley. We wouldn't want you to get left behind now, would we?"

She scowled at him and closed her hand around the other end of the candle, repressing the urge to wrench her hand away when their fingers brushed against each other. Brown eyes met grey: hers glaring, while his stared down at her mockingly, and then Ginny felt a familiar tug at her navel and the world spun out of focus. When her feet touched the ground again, she was no longer staring at the grey and green landscape of England. Instead, she found herself confronted with a violently blue sky that seemed to join like an ocean with the everlasting sands underneath. Then a wave of dry air hit her, and she almost stumbled backwards as her body struggled to acclimatise to the sudden change in temperature.

"Bloody deserts," Ginny muttered, stripping off her coat.

"Better get used to it," Draco responded, shoving the Portkey back in his bag. "We're going to be here for a while."

"Well, I know that," she snapped. "I have done this kind of thing before."

"Could have fooled me."

Ginny glared at him, but did not deign to respond to his comment. He wasn't paying attention to her anyway, too busy setting up a spell with his wand. She turned away from him and took in the barren landscape that surrounded them. There was a mass of shadowy shapes in the distance, which shifted in disorientating ripples the closer she tried to inspect them. There was no sign of any other people, or any type of civilisation.

"Where the hell are we?" she demanded, rounding on the blond. "I thought you said that Portkey would take us to Timbuktu? You can't tell me the famous, mythical city is just an expanse of desert."

Draco laughed softly. "Why don't you try using that pretty little head of yours and think about it, Weasley. I know it's difficult for you, but do consider: would the Ministry really let us Apparate in the middle of a Muggle city where anyone could see us? I think not, which is why we're going to have to walk the rest of the way, and maybe if you were silent for just a moment – though I know that is an impossible task for you – I might actually be able to figure out our location."

Ginny gritted her teeth, irritated by his patronising tone. He paid no heed to her and went back to busying himself with what she assumed must be a coordination spell. Realising that there was no point arguing with him, she folded her arms and stared about the desert as she waited for him to get the right bearings. Her gaze settled on the shadowy shapes she had been looking at earlier, and a faint crease formed on her brow.

"Malfoy, I think—"

"I really don't care what you think," Draco interjected smoothly, still trying to work out the complicated spell. "You've already proven yourself to be more of an imbecile than I thought possible, so I highly doubt you're going to be of any use to me while we're on this mission."

She rolled her eyes and dragged his hand up so that he was pointing at the mass of shapes in the distance.

"There is our destination, Malfoy," she announced, releasing his hand. "You don't need to waste our time with your little coordination spells when the city is right there in front of your eyes." She gave a derisive snort. "Honestly, you curse breakers are all the same."

He straightened to his full height, his jaw tightening just a fraction. "I would have seen it eventually. I don't need your help."

"In that case, have fun finding the magical object by yourself; you can let me know when it's time to go home." Ginny took a safari hat out of her bag and placed it on her head. "In the mean time, I plan on getting out of this desert, so if you'll excuse me—"

She turned on her heel and walked in the direction of the city. It took Draco ten seconds before he finally swallowed his pride and followed her. Ginny repressed a smile, pleased that she had won that round, but she did not say anything further to him and continued to walk ahead.

By the time they finally got to Timbuktu, both were very hot and thirsty. Ginny was dreaming longingly of ice-cold lemonade and shady trees, but one look inside the infamous city made her realise she was unlikely to find either of these luxuries. The trees were scraggly and thin, and the whole city seemed to be crumbling before her eyes. There was a deserted, lost feeling about the place, as if everything – even the buildings – had given up hope of surviving long ago.

"What happened here?" she asked, feeling her heart ache as she watched a group of malnourished children playing in a water-parched gutter.

"The desert."

"Hrm?" she queried, looking up at the blond.

"The sand," he elaborated. "It's destroying everything: the buildings, the water supply, the crops – everything. I'm surprised there are even people still living here."

"That's awful."

"That's life," he said shortly, continuing to walk.

Ginny glowered at him. "You're quite the compassionate one, aren't you?" she observed, stomping after him. "Don't you care that these people are suffering?"

"I know it's not my place to interfere, and neither is it yours." He met her eyes squarely. "Muggle problems are Muggle problems. We don't get involved unless it affects us. You know that."

"But—"

"Listen, Weasley," he said bluntly, losing his drawling tones, "you might want to run around and play Mother Theresa, but right now we're on an important mission. I don't care what you do once we're finished here, but for now you're working with me, and I will not have you jeopardising our work with your ridiculous schemes to save the world."

"I don't take orders from you!"

He took a step towards her, his eyes as hard and cold as stone. "You _will_ do as I say."

"Is that a threat?" she demanded, holding her chin high.

He smiled, though Ginny noticed it did not reach his eyes. "I'd like to consider it a warning, and one you should heed if you're wise."

"Why you little—"

"Do shut up, Weasley. Your obnoxiously loud voice is giving me a headache."

The blond turned on his heel and walked away without another word. Ginny glared at his retreating figure, her hands clenched tightly into fists.

"Who does he think he is?" she growled under her breath.

Draco paused, glancing back at her with that air of bored languor she oh-so-loathed. "Well, what are you waiting for?" he called. "Or you do plan on standing there in the sun all day? I wouldn't recommend it; you're freckled enough as it is."

Ginny resisted the urge to respond to his petty comment, deciding that she would be the mature one and just ignore his rudeness, though she couldn't resist poking her tongue out at him once his back was turned. They walked in silence through the streets, passing miserable sight after miserable sight, until they came to a large building that looked a bit more cared for than the others.

"What is this place?" she asked, glancing up at the blond.

"This would be the museum."

"Muggle?"

He nodded. "Naturally. Still, we may be able to get a clue as to where and what our object is from here. I have good reason to believe it originally was used in ancient African rituals. Most of the worshippers were Muggles, of course, but there was always the odd wizard or witch who actually knew what to do."

"I thought Timbuktu was part of the Islamic religion," Ginny said, frowning.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her in surprise, reluctantly impressed. "So you do know something? I'm astonished. Well, you're right, Weasley, most of the Muggles living in this region did turn to Islam when the Djenne merchants first began establishing the city in the eleventh century, but before that the original people of Timbuktu – the Tuareg Imashagan – worshipped something else."

"And you think this 'something' will give us a clue for what we're looking for?"

"Well, we won't know until we look, won't we?"

Ginny sighed, resigning herself to several hours of tedious research, and followed him into the museum. She had never been particularly studious – much preferring the practical work like Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions while at school – so it was no surprise she had turned to fighting against the Dark Arts and magical creatures for her job. Finding herself reading a bunch of barely legible manuscripts, most of which were in a language she struggled to understand, was therefore not her idea of fun.

The Muggle looking after the museum had been reluctant to let them even look at the manuscripts at first, but with a bit of magical persuasion on Draco's part, all had been sorted. It was not exactly the most ethical method, but it did get things done. As Draco pointed out, they didn't have time to worry about morals. Four hours later, however, Ginny was wishing the man had never let them into the museum, let alone near the documents.

"I'm hungry," she moaned, rubbing her stomach. "Can't we have a break? We've been looking at these mouldy things for hours."

Draco ignored her, still frowning over a piece of parchment in his hand. "This doesn't make sense," he mumbled, forgetting to maintain his languid demeanour for the moment. "It's like there are some pages missing or something."

Ginny yawned and stretched back in her chair. "Well, that man did say lots of the manuscripts were stolen or are being kept at the Armed B—Bar – well, that 'Armed' thingy."

"You mean the Ahmed Baba Centre – and I know, but it will be a lot more difficult to get in there and look at the manuscripts without arousing suspicion, even with our magic. The last thing we need is for our cover to be blown."

"So what do we do?"

Draco frowned. "I don't know. I'll have to think about it some more. But at least we know one thing."

"What?"

"The object is definitely somewhere in the city or, at the very least, within its parameters."

"How do you know?" Ginny asked, propping her chin on her hands.

"Because it says here that the Tuareg worshipped a serpent named Ouagadou-Bida."

"And?"

"Well, Weasley, if you had bothered to learn your Malian history, you would know that when Islam became the dominant religion under the Mali Empire and, then later, the Songhai, there was no mention of any water serpents or magic, yet the city itself had never been more powerful. Timbuktu eventually became a place of learning and religion, most notable for its mud mosques – one of which the emperor Mansa Musa commissioned to be built."

Ginny frowned. "And this Mansa Musa and his mosque are important, why?"

"That's what I want to find out. What I do know, however, is that the Sankore Mosque, the one Mansa Musa asked to be built, became the centre of learning in Timbuktu – a place where many _wizards_, who were also scholars, chose to spend their time. Many of these same scholars were executed or exiled when the Moroccans took control in the late 1500s. The Moroccans claimed it was because of the scholars' disloyalty to the Saadi ruler, Ahmad I al-Mansur, but it seems too much of a coincidence to me. I think the Saadi was looking for the magical object and the scholars refused to tell him of its whereabouts."

"You think the Islamic scholars were the ones who hid the item, then?"

"Possibly. It seems like the Saadi wasn't the only one looking for the object. The French also went in search of it, as did the Scottish and the English. It was Gordon Laing's account that the Ministry found, which told them a dark item of magical lore was being kept somewhere in the region. Laing himself was killed a month after reaching Timbuktu, but he did manage to report back to the wizarding council of his findings before his death."

"What did he say?"

"Only that there was something powerful hidden in the _Well of Buktu_."

"The well of what?"

Draco repressed a sigh. "It's one of the old translations of Timbuktu. Anyway, I won't know for certain where or what the object is until I can piece together the fragments of information I've got so far. Someone has been careful to remove anything that might give away too much, but we're definitely getting closer."

Ginny grinned, unable to help but get caught up on the rush of actually discovering something. Then, as if realising what she was doing and who she was smiling at, her mouth levelled back into a grim line, and she stood up from her chair.

"Well, Malfoy, now that you've proven you can be as informative and dry as a history tome, shall we leave? There's not much point us staying here any longer." Her stomach grumbled again. "Besides, I'm bloody hungry."

Draco rolled his eyes and used his wand to send the manuscripts back to their place. "Try to have a little finesse, Weasley. You sound awfully vulgar when you talk like that."

"I don't care about finesse – I care about getting something to eat." She frowned as something suddenly occurred to her. "Where are we staying anyway?"

"Not in the city. We'll set up camp outside."

"That will be safer," Ginny agreed.

"We might as well do that now," Draco said, grabbing his stuff off the desk and standing up. "I don't think we'll be finding anything to eat or drink in the city."

"I'm sure they would have something for us."

"Well, of course they would, but if you want to go ahead and take what someone else needs more than you, be my guest."

"So you _do_ care," Ginny exclaimed triumphantly.

"Not a bit," Draco responded, unmoved. "I just figured whatever they have to offer wouldn't be very appetising anyway."

Ginny rolled her eyes and followed behind him as he headed for the exit. As they were passing back through the city, Draco pointed out an odd pyramid-like structure further in the distance, which he said was the Sankore Mosque. It was one of the strangest pieces of architecture she had ever seen, and had what looked like long spikes sticking out if its outer frame.

She frowned, wondering if it actually did have any significance for what they were looking for. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled slightly, and she turned to see a man dressed in black watching her intently from across the street. Ginny didn't know why, but she found his presence and dark, unblinking gaze unnerving, even frightening.

Ginny hurried to catch up to Draco, who had continued walking ahead. She was too proud to admit her fear – she was supposed to be the big protector, after all – but it would be stupid not to tell the blond of her suspicions.

"There was a man watching me from within those buildings back there," she hissed. "I think he knows who we are."

Draco didn't turn back to look. "What did he look like?"

"Tall, dark skin, wearing a black cloak."

"African?"

"I think so."

"And you say he was watching you?" Draco asked.

Ginny nodded. "Very intently."

To her surprise, Draco only smiled. "I don't think you need to worry about him."

"How do you know?" she demanded.

"Weasley, if you haven't noticed, you're one of the few – if not the only – white females in this city. You'll probably find he was staring at you because you looked different. And I can't say I blame him. Your hair doesn't exactly say subtle."

"Speak for yourself, blondie."

"Ah, but I'm not a woman."

Ginny glared at him. "Let's just hurry and set up camp. I'm tired of being in this dusty old place."

"Fine with me," Draco responded, and walked with her out of the city boundaries.

It took them a while to decide where they wanted to set up their camp, but eventually they agreed upon a place and began building their tents. All was fine until Ginny realised her tent had a rather large hole in it, which disrupted the magic stitched into the linings, making the tent warped and more like what Muggles used.

"I'm going to kill Ron," Ginny growled, throwing the tent down on the ground with a huff.

She knew she should never have leant it to him. This was her only tent – the one she used on all her expeditions – and he, being the idiotic troll he was – just had to go and ruin it.

"Problem?" Draco queried, looking rather amused as he stood watching her outside his perfectly built tent.

"I can't sleep in this," Ginny admitted in a gruff voice, pained at having to go to him for help. "There's a hole in it."

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?" he drawled pleasantly enough, but she could hear the contempt underlying his voice like venom mixed with honey. He considered her for a moment and then sighed. "Well, I suppose you might as well share my tent. It'll make it easier to place the misdirection charms around our area, anyway."

Ginny did not thank him, but she was grateful that he had decided not to be immature and make her sleep in her broken tent. One just never knew with him.

She gathered her belongings and walked inside his tent, only to stop short when she saw how luxurious it actually was.

"Merlin, Malfoy, did you decide to bring a whole palace with you?" she exclaimed, turning to look at the blond in faint disgust.

"Just because I'm a curse breaker who sometimes has to stay in less than comfortable places doesn't mean I have to be uncomfortable myself." Draco brushed past her and headed for the large bed. "I don't have a bed for you – this is a one-man tent – but there's plenty of room for you on the floor." He smiled sweetly at her. "I'm sure such a resilient woman as yourself won't find any problems with that. You're probably used to such sleeping arrangements."

Ginny gritted her teeth, not oblivious to the insult, and threw her bed roll and sleeping bag on the floor. "You're right, Malfoy, the floor will be fine."

His mouth twitched into a smile, but he said nothing more and continued unpacking his belongings. Ginny was busy unpacking her own stuff – though, in truth, she was really just looking for her food rations – when she heard the blond swear under his breath.

"What's wrong, Malfoy?" she asked with false concern. "Forget your hairnet?"

"Don't be stupid," he responded smoothly. "I packed that first."

Ginny stared at him, not sure if he was being serious or not. One really did just never know with him.

"If you must know, Weasley," he continued, "contrary to your predilection to think I can only be concerned about my appearance, the truth is that I seem to have left one of my books back in England."

"Books?"

He raised an eyebrow. "Yes, Weasley. Books. They're those things that people read, which believe it or not, actually carry an abundance of useful information inside. Perhaps you should try reading one sometime. It might cure you of this habit of asking idiotic questions."

Ginny glared at him. "You know, Malfoy, I've just about had it with your rudeness to me! From the moment we got on this trip, you've done nothing but insult me!"

"Hrm, I wonder why."

"That's it!" Ginny growled, whipping out her wand.

Draco had his own wand out in a flash, and for a moment they both stared at each other, their wands aimed at the other's face.

"Put your wand down, Weasley," Draco said calmly.

"You first," she retorted, still glaring at him.

He laughed. "I don't think so. I know you don't play fair."

"Oh, and I'm supposed to trust you?"

He walked towards her, a disquieting smile touching his lips. Ginny stood her ground, still holding her wand aloft as she met his grey eyes challengingly.

"You know you're not going to attack me," he murmured, lowering her wand for her, even as he lowered his own, "so let's not play games."

Ginny let out a small breath, though her eyes remained narrowed. "You're lucky I've been assigned to protect you."

"I'm sure," he said dryly.

She glared at him. "One more insult from you, Malfoy, and I might just change my mind."

"Here's a warning for you," he responded with all his usual poisonous sweetness, his face inches from hers. "Pull your wand out on me again and I _will_ make you regret it."

"Is that a threat?" she asked for the second time that day.

"No, Weasley. That's a promise."

He stepped back from her, and Ginny was suddenly aware of how edgy his proximity had made her feel as her body relaxed at having more space to breathe. She watched him go back to unpacking his things and thought, not for the first time that day, of how much she truly despised Draco Malfoy.

The sooner they found this object the better, in her opinion. Anything had to be more enjoyable than being stuck in Draco Malfoy's company all day.

**Notes: **

I feel I need to make some sort of disclaimer because I'm writing about a place I have neither studied nor visited. That being said, I did try research as much about Mali and its history as was feasible for the time I had – and very fascinating it was too – so if I do get things wrong, we can blame it on the shoddy historians who got their facts wrong and therefore muddled me. Of course, since I'm fusing 'Muggle' history with my own spin on a 'magical' history, some things will be changed.

I must also apologise for making Draco give a history lecture in this chapter, but it is important to the story – I promise I'm not trying to torture you with information.

* * *

**Leigh's Prompt (3)**

**Basic Outline: **A dark object of ancient lore has been discovered in deepest, darkest Africa. The Ministry sends its best curse-breaker and best dark arts defence expert on a trip to Timbuktu to retrieve it before it falls into the wrong hands. Problem? The two absolutely hate each other, personally and professionally.

**Must Haves: **Humor: SNARK (and arrogance) from both of them, each in their own style. Adventure: They're in Africa, they might be racing bad guys, and they're hunting an evil object. Go with it. Romance/Drama: they're travelling/working/living together in close quarters, and underneath all that unadulterated loathing is some undeniable chemistry - except, of course, that they probably deny it. ;)

**No-no's: **Tragedy, a sappy/cheesy end, past relationship junk

**Rating Range: **T+

**Bonus Points: **Super points if you do a little research into ancient Africa and craft together the real world history with a parallel Wizarding backstory. Regular points for shirtless Draco, Ginny in a safari hat, and a wonderfully satisfying kiss.


	2. The Well of Buktu

**The Well of Buktu**

Ginny did not sleep well. No amount of magic could make her bed roll comfortable, and her sleeping bag kept tangling around her legs, making her feel claustrophobic. She tossed and turned, drifting in and out of disturbing dreams involving public executions, dark tunnels, and men in black cloaks – all of which seemed to blur together into one frightening nightmare. When she awoke the next morning, she could only recall brief snatches of images, yet there was an unsettling feeling in the pit of her stomach that continued to linger.

She shivered, despite the warm temperature, and glanced towards Draco. He was sprawled out on his bed, one arm dangling off the side, and was wearing an expression of perfect contentment. It was obvious he had suffered no troubling dreams, and she doubted his hips were feeling uncomfortably tender like hers. His bed probably felt like feathers. In fact, she wouldn't be surprised if it proved to actually be made of feathers – probably plucked from a golden-egg laying goose at that.

Ginny rolled onto her back, glaring at the beige canvas above her. She was, mildly put, displeased with the blond. He had proven to be every bit as insufferable as she remembered him, if not worse. The thought of spending another day with him made something inside of her shrivel and die, and not just because she didn't see how she was ever going to stomach his patronising and infallibly rude comments without hexing him.

The sound of a prolonged yawn told her that Draco was awake. He got out of his bed and smiled as he walked past her, wishing her a good morning, his voice dripping with mockery. Ginny resisted the impulse to throw her pillow at him and clambered out of the sleeping bag. She followed him into the kitchen area where he was already setting about making himself a cup of coffee.

"Have a good sleep?" he asked conversationally, though she could see the smile lurking at his mouth, belying his sincerity.

"Oh, it was wonderful," Ginny replied, well aware that her eyes were shadowed with tell-tale dark circles. "I slept like a lamb."

"That's good."

Ginny glowered at him as he took a sip of his coffee. He smiled affably in return. Something about that smile made something snap inside her. She slammed her empty cup down on the bench.

"I'm going for a walk," she said shortly, feeling like she might be sick if she had to stay in his presence any longer. Or hurt something – him.

She swept past him before he could respond, pausing to shove on her shoes before she stormed out of the tent. If she was hoping to be calmed by the landscape, however, she was sorely disappointed. The desert looked just as harsh and unwelcoming as ever, and the sky, though a rich blue, promised another sweltering day.

Ginny scowled and started walking in no direction in particular, venting her frustration with each stomp of her feet. She didn't know how long she walked, but after a while the protestations of her empty stomach became unbearable, outweighing the hate she felt towards her blond companion. Indeed, she was feeling almost ready to forgive Draco for being an intolerable pig – he couldn't help if he was born a bastard, after all.

Cheered by her own benevolence, she headed back towards the camp in a much calmer frame of mind. She passed through the tent doors, fondly dreaming of the bowl of Cauldron Puff cereal she would soon be eating, when she suffered a severe shock as she saw Draco rifling through his suitcase, wearing nothing but a pair of loose black pants.

She paused, exclamations evaporating to a silent breath as she stared at the blond. And stare she did.

Ginny had always thought Draco was a bit on the runty side. True, he was tall, but he didn't exactly appear Mr Muscular at first glance. Now, as she stared at his bare chest, watching the sinewy muscles on his arms stretch and become taut as he searched his suitcase, she realised just how wrong she was. He was slender and graceful, there was no doubt about it, but he was also fit – _very_ fit. What he lacked in overt muscular bulk, he made up for in toned, sculpted strength, which, when combined with his cold, handsome features and striking, grey eyes, certainly presented a rather appealing sight. The redhead was not immune to this appeal, and a shallow, unbiased part of her brain thought that Draco Malfoy, for all his horridness, was one sexy bastard.

Draco glanced up, catching her gawking, and a slight frown twisted his lips. "What?" he said bluntly. "Never seen a man shirtless before?"

Patchy – and unflattering – splotches of pink blossomed all over her face. "I wasn't staring at you," she snapped.

"Really?" he responded, looking amused now. "Then what were you staring so fixedly at?"

Ginny's eyes narrowed, even as the pink splotches spread down her neck. He was making her flustered, and when she got flustered, she got angry.

"Actually, I was just thinking it was typical of an arrogant tosspot like you to wander around without a shirt," she rejoined with a bit more venom than necessary. "I suppose you thought I'd fall right at your feet upon one glance."

"Not at all," he said evenly. "For one thing, I have no desire to sleep with such an ill-mannered, ill-groomed creature as yourself; for another, contrary to your assumption that I had some design by appearing before you half-clothed, I was actually looking for a shirt to wear since I am, as any intelligent person would have realised, getting dressed." He smiled sweetly. "I am flattered you find me attractive, of course."

She gritted her teeth, clenching her hands into fists. "I never said I find you attractive; I only said—"

"Please, Weasley, don't dig yourself into a deeper hole than the one you've already created. Your efforts to confound me really are quite painful to watch."

She opened and closed her mouth wordlessly, not quite certain how to respond to that.

He smiled. "Just so."

Ginny's blush deepened to a rich plum, though it was more from anger than humiliation. She glared at him, imagining all sorts of horrible deaths she might make him suffer – her favourite was boiling him alive in her cauldron. And then it occurred to her.

"Malfoy, why is your hair wet?" she demanded as if it was the most heinous crime imaginable.

He shrugged on a loose-fitting shirt. "That would be because I had a bath."

"A—a bath?"she repeated, hardly daring to believe such a luxury could exist in this hellhole. "How did you have a bath? There's no wat—"

"This tent has in-built pipes and water reserves," he interposed, now doing up the buttons on his shirt, barely sparing a glance for her.

Ginny clasped her hands together, unconsciously taking a step towards him. "Is there any water left for me?"

He frowned and considered her through his cool grey eyes, as if trying to decide whether she was worth sharing his precious water with. "I suppose," he said after a moment, if a little reluctantly.

Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. He might think her ill-groomed, but she wanted to feel clean just as much as the next person. Wearing a second coating of grime on her skin was not her idea of good hygiene.

"Where's this bath, then?" she asked, looking about the tent as if a tub of steaming water was going to magically appear in front of her.

He pointed to a large, ornate partition, which she had at first taken to be his own portable dressing room. "Behind that screen."

She walked eagerly towards it, then paused, glancing back at him with a suspicious look. "You'd better not watch."

"Why would I want to?" he responded blankly.

Not having an answer to this question, Ginny merely held her chin high and slipped behind the partition. Just as Draco had said, a brass tub was sitting there all ready for her to fill with water.

"Thank Merlin," Ginny breathed.

She used her wand to fill the tub, then stripped off her clothes and got into the bath. It was like slipping into heaven, and she thought she really could forgive Draco for being such an arrogant prat in that moment – her tent certainly did not have an in-built pipe system and bath.

Ginny sighed contentedly and closed her eyes. She could hear Draco shuffling about behind the partition, but she paid little attention to the noise – even when the tent became suspiciously silent. It didn't occur to her to question what he was doing, so when she finally got out of the bath, wrapped a towel around her, and came out from behind the partition, she was expecting to find him sitting on his bed and reading one of those tedious books of his; she was not expecting to discover that he was no longer even in the tent.

"No," Ginny groaned, already having an inkling of what had happened.

She threw on some clothes and went outside, peering around the dusty landscape for any sign of the blond. He was not to be found.

"Great," she muttered, stomping back inside the tent. "Just great."

She didn't think for a moment that something had happened to him. It was obvious that he had simply seized the chance to leave her behind while he went off to do his own thing. He probably only let her use his bath at all because he realised it would be an easy way to get rid of her.

To say she was annoyed was an understatement. Even the bowl of Cauldron Puff cereal could not lighten her mood – not even when she imagined the little puffs were his face and she munched them into unrecognisable pieces with her spoon. She had no idea where he had gone, and had no wish to go traipsing about the city looking for him. That would just bring attention to the both of them, and she did not want that.

It was just as Ginny was rinsing her bowl that she spotted a piece of parchment sitting on the bench. She grabbed it, recognising the blond's familiar scrawl. It read:

_Gone to look at archives. Stay here, and __don't__ do anything stupid. _

Ginny crumpled the parchment in her hand. It was just like him to leave a short, patronising note, ordering her to stay in the tent like a good little pet. And what did he mean by telling her not to do anything stupid? What did he think she was going to do?

Rebellion stirred inside her, hot and uncontrollable. How dare he treat her this way? She was his partner, not some trollop he could order around or leave behind at will. She was a professional, and she was damn good at her job. It was an insult to be treated this way, and Ginny was not going to stand for it.

"Fine, Malfoy," she growled, "You want to play it solo, then we'll play it solo. You can do your research, but I'm not going to sit around here all day waiting for you."

She picked up her bag, slinging it over her shoulder, and shoved her wand in its holster, which was attached to her belt. Making sure her wand was covered by her top, she then exited the tent and headed towards the city, a grim expression on her face. She may not be a curse breaker or a great academic, but she was not stupid. She was sure she could find what they were looking for without having to resort to pouring over tedious archives for hours on end.

"But where to begin," she mumbled, peering about the buildings as she headed deeper into the city.

Her eyes caught the top of the Sankore Mosque. She stared at it, remembering how Draco had mentioned it had some significance for something, though he had not known what. All he had known was that Mansa Musa had commissioned it to be built, and it was later used as a haven for scholars – Muggle and magical – most of whom were then executed after the Moroccans took control of Timbuktu. Still, there was definitely something about the mosque.

Ginny started heading in the direction of the pyramid-like structure, thinking it couldn't hurt to have a look. She was almost at the wall when she felt a slight tingle travel up her spine. Her heart gave a funny leap in her chest and she instinctively gripped her wand. She turned her head slightly, catching sight of a man in a black cloak hovering in the shadows. Only the whites of his eyes could be seen, but even then she knew this was the same man who had watched her yesterday.

She carefully removed its wand from its holster, ignoring the rapid pounding of her heart. She slipped the wand a bit up her wrist, making sure it was hidden by her sleeve, and then continued to walk forward as casually as she could. The man in the shadows did not move. Ginny was just beginning to think that maybe she had overreacted when something darted past her out the corner of her eye. She froze, spinning around with her wand at the ready, but it was too late. Something connected with her head, and then her vision blurred in a mixture of black and white flashes. She swayed, her wand slipping out of her hand, and then she fell in a crumpled heap to the ground where she remained very still, her eyes shut.

Another man reached down and wrapped her body in a nondescript blanket, careful to make sure no part of her was showing. He slung the bundle over his shoulder and glanced at the man in the black cloak, who gave a short nod. The small group then moved off in the direction of the mosque, unobtrusive and calm.

There was no evidence of what had just happened in the square. Nothing, that is, except a thin piece of wood lying inconspicuously on the ground.

**HXH**

The sun was just beginning to set when Draco got back to the tent. He was tired and thirsty, but very satisfied. He now knew where they would find the object, which meant he could finally say goodbye to that red-haired nuisance the ministry had dared to call his partner.

Speaking of annoying redheads, where was she?

Draco glanced about the tent, a slight frown creasing his brow as he saw Ginny was not there. Her bag was also gone, as was her wand. The note he had written her was still sitting on the bench, though it was crumpled into a ball now.

He swore softly under his breath as he realised she had gone out into the city alone. There was no saying what might have happened to her, for while he only had an inkling that she might be in danger earlier, he knew for certain now that she would be a prime target.

"Damn it," he hissed, slamming his fist down on the bench.

He had told her to stay, he had told her not to do anything stupid. And what did she do?

"Women," he muttered with loathing, "you can't trust them to do anything right."

But there was no denying that he was worried. She may be the Ministry's best Defence Against the Dark Arts expert, but she was not invincible. Even the best could be taken unawares sometimes, and from what he had seen of Ginevra Weasley, she was not always entirely focused. Since she had not come back yet, it was very likely that something had gone wrong.

Draco swore again and exited the tent, heading back towards the city. He kept a firm grip on his wand, his eyes searching for any sight of the redhead. The closer he got to the Sankore Mosque, the deeper became his misgivings. His foot collided with something, and he glanced down to see a thin piece of wood roll across the ground. There was no mistaking the distinct shape: it was a wand, and one he knew well.

Draco picked up the wand, clenching it tight in his hand as he realised his fears had been true. Ginny was gone, and by the end of the night she would be dead unless he did something.

He pocketed her wand and stared through narrowed eyes at the Sankore Mosque. It looked perfectly innocent, but underneath the mosque was a world unknown to Muggles: a world that thrived with dark magic. That was where they would be keeping Ginny, of that he was certain. But getting them both out to the surface alive would not be easy.

The blond sighed, knowing he had no choice but to try. He cast a Disillusionment Charm over his body and then passed through the archway that led to the mosque. Being a wizard, and a curse breaker at that, it was not hard to get inside the mosque. Nor was it difficult for him to sense the magic hiding the opening that led to the catacombs.

He muttered a few spells, removing the concealing charms one by one, and then a circular mound of rocks slowly began to appear before him, covered by several pieces of wood joined together. He removed the wooden cover, revealing a hole large enough for a full-grown man to fit comfortably in if he so wished. From what the blond could see, the hole went down quite deep, for he could not see the bottom, even when he shined the light of his wand down.

"So this is the Well of Buktu," Draco murmured, staring at it in wonder.

It seemed strange to think that this was the first well the Tuareg people built in Timbuktu, and which the original Tin Abutut took care of. The well had been developed over the years, shaped to become the entranceway to the catacombs, which the wizards had built underneath to hide the magical object Draco was now seeking. Obviously, someone else had found the catacombs first, and they knew exactly what was hiding down there.

He conjured a rope and knotted it tight around a pillar in the room, then tossed it down the well. Taking a firm grip on the rope, he then lowered himself carefully into the darkness, hoping there would be no one waiting for him at the bottom. The Disillusionment Charm was still on him, but it didn't make him completely invisible, and it would be difficult not to notice someone climbing down a rope, camouflaged or not.

It was a while before his feet finally found a stable surface to stand on. Much to his relief, there were no guards stationed at the bottom. He removed his wand from its holster and used it to conceal the rope with magic. Satisfied that even the keenest of eyes could not perceive it, he then turned and faced the tunnel leading off into the catacombs. He didn't dare light his wand in case it gave away his position, so he waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness and then entered the tunnel, careful to be as quiet as possible.

He did not meet anyone for the first few stretches, but when he came to a junction, he did hear voices coming from the left tunnel. Draco was fluent in most languages, but this certain strand was not entirely familiar to him, so he could not make out all the words. What he did manage to understand, however, sent a chill down his spine. According to these men, the 'pale-faced woman' was already being prepared for the sacrifice.

"Weasley," he said in the barest whisper, clenching his wand so tightly that his knuckles burned white.

It was not in his code to be a hero, but he had an inkling of what they were planning to do with Ginny, and the thought of that happening to her made him feel oddly ill. He knew he had to save her, and he had to do it now.

Draco slipped out from behind the shadows and in two quick spells had knocked one man unconscious and disarmed the other. He grabbed the unarmed man by the scruff of his cloak and held him up against the wall, his expression fierce as he glared into the other's coal-black eyes.

"Where is the girl?" Draco demanded in the man's own language.

The man gave a harsh laugh. "You can't save her now. She's already been chosen."

Draco growled low in his throat and cracked the man's skull against the wall. "You will take me to her _now_!"

The man seemed to understand that Draco meant business and would probably kill him if he did not comply. He nodded his head reluctantly.

"Good," Draco said shortly. He pushed the man ahead of him, still holding him by his cloak and pressing his wand to the other man's neck. "You lead the way."

They walked in silence through the catacombs, going deeper into the maze of tunnels. Draco silently thanked the gods who had decided to grant him with a photographic memory; there was no way he would have been able to find his way back to the well entrance if he had not.

After a while, they came to a much larger tunnel than the rest. A light could be seen at the end.

"What's down there?" Draco asked.

"Your woman," the man replied with a twisted smile. "It's too late to save her now, though. The sacrifice has already started."

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Well, if that's the case, then I have no further use for you."

"Wait a min—"

There was a flash of red, and then the man's eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped to the ground. Draco stepped over the body and continued down the tunnel. The fear that he might indeed be too late crept into his mind, but he pushed it aside, refusing to be distracted from his task. She had to be alive, and if she wasn't—well, he didn't even want to think about it.

The sound of chanting came to his ears, growing louder with each step. The light was also getting brighter now, and he increased his pace, knowing he was getting closer. When he finally got to the end of the tunnel, he could see an assortment of men and women below a steep collection of steps. The men were carrying torches and chanting while the women danced frenziedly and shrieked in time with the chants. It was frightening and fascinating to watch. At the centre of them all was a stone structure where a lone woman with fair skin and vibrant red hair struggled against the chains holding her wrists and ankles captive. She was completely naked but for a necklace of bones which had been hung around her neck. Draco felt sick at the sight, but he was relieved to see she appeared unharmed. Her voice certainly hadn't been impaired, for he could hear her threats and insults even from where he was standing.

Knowing she was fine for now, he looked around for a way to get closer to her without attracting too much attention. It would be suicide to rush in there – no matter how talented a wizard he might be, he was only one man. He spotted a ledge going around the higher part of the cavern and followed it with his eyes. A small smile touched his lips as he saw that it passed directly over where Ginny was being held.

"Excellent," he muttered, making his way towards the ledge.

The ledge proved to be very narrow up close. Not one to give up so easily, Draco pressed his back against the wall and carefully began moving along the ledge. It was a precarious position, but he forced himself to remain calm and focus on the task at hand. He had plenty of time yet.

He was almost at the point corresponding to where Ginny was chained when there was a loud roar from deep within the adjoining cavern. Draco froze, his eyes widening with dismay. It couldn't be, but—

Ginny suddenly gave a bloodcurdling scream. He glanced down and saw a large shape emerging from the darkness, followed by a burst of flames. The Tuareg rushed towards higher ground, leaving Ginny chained to the rock, vulnerable and unprotected.

"Let me down!" she screamed, frantically trying to break her bonds. "Let me down! Let me down! Let me down!"

No one paid any heed to her, and Draco watched in frozen horror as a dragon clawed its way towards her, spiked tail swishing and its sharp teeth glinting in the light of the abandoned torches. Its scales were a dark blue, and its wings were surprisingly small. Draco thought it unlikely the creature could fly, but it was vicious looking all the same, with sharp horns sticking out of its head. It also seemed to be hungry.

The dragon roared and let out another volley of flames – barely missing Ginny. She screamed again, tugging fruitlessly at the chains. Draco knew he would never make it to her in time. The dragon was closing in on her, teeth bared – ready to kill. Whether she was burnt alive or ripped apart by those razor-sharp teeth, she was not going to survive.

Draco then did something very stupid for a man who prided himself on his self-preservation skills: he jumped from the ledge, landing on the dragon's back, and almost tumbled right off from the impact. He grabbed onto one of the dragon's horns, ignoring its roaring and stamping about as he tried to get a better grip so he could pull himself up. The dragon reared on its legs, almost throwing him off again, but he held tight and managed to steady himself with one hand so that he could get his wand free.

"Malfoy?" Ginny exclaimed, staring at him wide-eyed. "Is that you?"

"I'm afraid I can't talk right now, Weasley," Draco shouted, still struggling to stay on the dragon as it tossed its head back, trying to knock him off. "But if you could make yourself useful by telling me how to kill this bloody dragon, I might reconsider leaving your idiotic arse chained to that rock."

"You can't kill a dragon; its hide is protected with magic, and you'd need at least ten of you to stun it."

"Are you telling me there's no way to get rid of this thing?" Draco demanded.

"Well, you could always aim for its eye. That's its one weak point."

Draco cast a curse at the dragon's eye, but this only made it angrier. It roared and breathed fire in random spurts, stomping wildly about in pain. Draco collided against the wall, feeling the sharp rocks slice into his back, but he continued to clutch onto the horn for dear life, knowing that if he fell now he was sure to be crushed by the dragon's feet.

He could hear the Tuareg people shouting angrily at him, yet they did nothing to stop him, obviously assuming the dragon would finish both he and Ginny off. And they were probably right, but Draco couldn't give up now. His pride wouldn't allow it.

"Damn it," he growled. "There must be something I can do!"

And then he heard it – a voice whispering in his mind:

"_Brave warrior, I offer you my sword – the sword of Amadou Sefedokote. Take it."_

Draco started in surprise, wondering what the hell was going on, and then a man, strangely ghost-like in appearance, came out of nowhere and handed him a blade of the finest workmanship. The blond took the sword without question, ready to try anything at this point. He swung down at the dragon's neck with all his might, taking its head off with one clean swipe, making himself tumble to the ground. There was an angry cry from the watching Tuareg, and then, to the horror of both Draco and Ginny, the flesh and scales began to grow once more, until there was a new, snarling head in its place.

"What the fu—" Draco began, and then quickly rolled to the side to avoid a jet of flames.

There was a laugh from one of the Tuareg men. "You cannot kill our dragon, pale-face," he shouted with wicked glee. "Ouagadou-Bida cannot be slain."

Draco glanced up at the dragon. "Ouagadou-Bida?" he repeated.

A claw came for his face. He dodged it, though was not able to stop the very tips of the dragon's claws from scraping his face and tearing through his shirt, leaving four red lines on his chest. Blood trickled down his cheek, hot and sticky, but he merely wiped it irritably away and took a firmer hold on the sword.

"Alright, you bastard, let's do this!" Draco growled, charging at the dragon.

"Malfoy, what are you doing?" Ginny screamed. "You can't kill that thing!"

But Draco wasn't listening. He dodged another claw, jumped the spiked tail, and then hovered tauntingly in front of the dragon's face.

"Come on," he whispered, sweat dripping down his brow. "Lower your head."

The dragon eyed him through yellow eyes and then, as if hearing Draco's plea, made a snatch for the blond with its teeth. Draco seized his chance and swung the sword upwards, slicing through the thick scales to remove the creature's head for the second time. Once again, the head started to renew itself, but Draco wasted no time and chopped it off again, and again, and again – chopping frantically until he had removed its head seven times. As he had hoped, the head did not grow back. The dragon was finally dead.

He let out a sigh of satisfaction – albeit an exhausted one – and leaned against the sword, trying to catch his breath.

"Malfoy!" Ginny shouted, snapping him out of his inward celebrations. "I'm very impressed you managed to kill that thing and all, but I'm still chained to this bloody rock. And if you hadn't noticed, there are people coming after us!"

Draco turned his head, his eyes widening as he saw that she was right: the Tuareg people were running towards him, screaming wildly while waving their wands and weapons in a way that suggested they were intending to kill.

"Come on!" Ginny urged, struggling against her chains.

His hands were slippery with dragon blood, making him fumble with his wand, but he managed to remove the chains keeping Ginny bound to the rock. She fell forward, tumbling into his arms – a fact that might have been awkward considering her lack of clothing were it not for the desperate situation they were now in. He tried to Disapparate with her, but something was blocking him.

"Damn it!" he growled. "They've got anti-Apparation wards all around this place."

"We're going to have to run," Ginny said, meeting his eyes.

"I know." He placed her back on her feet and thrust her wand into her hands. "Here," he said brusquely, "you're going to need this."

She took it gratefully, and he glanced back to where the cloaked figures were running towards them. There was no way they could go back the way he had come. Draco could only hope the tunnels somehow connected with the main path leading to the well entrance.

"Alright, let's go," he muttered.

They both started running, taking whatever tunnel caught their eyes first. There was no time to get their bearings, for their assailants were too close behind. The further they ran, however, the more Draco got the awful sense that they were indeed going deeper into the caverns.

"Do you know where these tunnels go?" he asked Ginny.

"No," she replied, running beside him. "I was unconscious when they brought me in here. I woke up already chained to that rock."

"Damn. We're just going to have to take our chances then."

Ginny stared at him curiously. "How did you know I was here, anyway?"

"You weren't in the tent. I knew this is where the magical object is being hidden, so it seemed the logical place to look."

"You mean it's somewhere in these caverns?"

"Yes."

"Then we should be looking for it."

"Sure, Weasley," Draco retorted dryly, "we'll just go have a little investigation while these rabid dragon worshippers chase after us. And need I remind you that you're not even wearing any clothes."

"I think I realised I was naked, Malfoy," she snapped. "And if you were a decent person – which I know you're not – you'd give me something to wear."

"I just risked my life to save your ungrateful arse!" he cried, justifiably annoyed.

"Yeah, well, if you hadn't left me behind like that today, I wouldn't have needed saving."

"No, Weasley, if you had just listened to me and stayed behind at the tent, neither of us would be in this mess."

"Oh, so it's all my fault, is it?"

"I told you not to leave the tent! I told you not to do anything stupid! And what did you do? You went trundling off into the city and got yourself captured."

"How was I supposed to know what was going to happen? You didn't exactly tell me I was in danger from psychotic religious people wanting to sacrifice me to their dragon god!"

"Well, if you'd actually bothered to learn about Mali and its history, you would have known that some of the people—"

"Shut up!" Ginny hissed, clamping her hand over his mouth.

She tugged him into the shadows with her before he could respond, shoving him against the wall. Draco was uncomfortably aware of her naked body pressed against his – especially since there was barely anything to stop their skin from touching from where the dragon's claws had shredded his already thin shirt.

He pushed the thoughts aside, knowing this was not the time to let Ginny Weasley's admittedly lovely breasts distract him from the direness of their situation. Her eyes flashed up at him accusingly, as if she knew full-well what he was thinking, but she didn't say anything and kept her hand firmly over his mouth. Draco heard the sound of footsteps coming towards them and stiffened as a group of men ran past where they were hiding, but the men did not stop and continued running until they had passed out of sight.

Ginny released Draco's mouth and stepped back from him.

"Give me your shirt," she ordered.

"Weasley, I don't think that's going to cover mu—"

"Just give it here!"

"Fine, if that's what it will take to shut you up," he retorted, pulling of his shirt and handing it to her.

He had the satisfaction of seeing her eyes flick to his chest, but then she simply glared at him and turned her attention to the shirt in her hands. In a few muttered spells, she had changed the shirt into a boob tube and very short shorts. It was unlikely she actually desired to wear such miniscule clothing, being, from what he had seen, quite a modest dresser, but she could only work with the cloth she had, and since quite a bit of it had been shredded, there wasn't much to go around.

Ginny slipped the boob tube and shorts on and then gave one venomous glare at him. "Alright, now we can go."

"After you," Draco said, giving her a mock bow.

She ran ahead without a further word, Draco following closely behind. The catacombs seemed to go for miles, and more than once the two had to retreat into the shadows, muttering quick Disillusionment Charms to camouflage with the walls so that their assailants would not find them.

"How good are you at keeping a Disillusionment Charm on?" Draco whispered as another group of cloaked figures darted past them.

"Not very good," Ginny admitted. "I've always relied on invisibility cloaks."

"Well, then, I guess we'll just have to do this the old fashioned way."

Ginny nodded, and together they crept down the tunnels, careful to stay hidden in the shadows.

It was just when Draco thought they had finally lost the Ouagadou-Bida worshippers that Ginny froze beside him.

"What?" he said, turning to look at her. "What is it?"

She pointed wordlessly ahead. Draco followed her gaze and saw twenty men come and block the path ahead of them, headed by a fair-skinned man in a white suit. Draco had no trouble recognising the man.

"Cyras," Draco growled.

"I'm afraid your little game of hide and seek is up, Draco," Cyras said with a smile, showing every one of his perfect teeth.

Draco glanced back and saw that they were indeed surrounded.

"You can drop your wands now," Cyras continued pleasantly.

Draco and Ginny reluctantly complied, knowing they had no hope of escaping.

"Now then," Cyras mused, raising his wand and aiming it directly at Draco's face, "I think you've done enough damage for one day."

There was a flash of red, a scream, and then the world went black.


	3. Behind the Wall

**Behind the Wall**

"Malfoy," Ginny hissed, giving the blond a firm shake. "Malfoy, wake up!"

She swore when he did not respond and slumped back against the wall, cradling her knees to her chest. This was not the first time she had been captured while on a mission, but then nothing she had ever experienced had come quite close to this either. She didn't think she would ever forget being offered as a sacrifice to a foul-tempered dragon, nor having Draco come at the last minute to rescue her.

A small smile touched her lips as she thought of the way the blond had leapt down onto the dragon from out of nowhere, sparing no thought for his own safety. He had been quite magnificent, though she would be hard-pressed to admit as much aloud – especially within the blond's hearing. He was conceited enough as it is.

Still, he had saved her; though, when she thought about it, she was really back to where she had started. True, she was no longer naked and chained to a rock, waiting to be eaten by a dragon, but that did not change the fact she was once again wandless and being held captive by religious zealots.

Ginny sighed and stared at the unconscious blond. The claw marks on his face were developing an ugly green tinge and were flared with red. The scratches on his chest were shallower and much less inflamed, yet it was obvious both were infected and would get worse if his wounds were not attended to soon. She bit her lip guiltily, knowing – even if she refused to admit it aloud – that it mostly was her fault they were in this mess. The fact that her feet were smothered in cuts from running barefoot in the tunnels did little to comfort her. She had barely noticed the pain while running, but now that she was stationary all the evils of her situation were finally registering to her brain.

"And who knows what's going to happen to us now," she mused, clutching her knees tighter to her chest.

Draco gave a small groan. She glanced down to see him struggling to sit up, still trying to get his bearings after being stunned into unconsciousness. A slight frown furrowed his brow as he stared about the cell-like cavern they had been shoved into.

"Where are we?" he asked, turning to look at her.

"I don't know," she replied, "but that stone is covering our only exit."

She pointed at the large, round stone that had been rolled over the opening. She had tried to move it earlier, but it was so massive that she had soon realised only magic could budge it.

"Then we're trapped," he sighed.

"Seems like it, unless you've got another wand hidden somewhere up your sleeve."

"I'm not wearing any sleeves," he responded dryly. "You took my shirt, remember?"

"Well, you could hardly expect me to wander around naked," Ginny retorted, throwing him a contemptuous glance.

Draco shrugged. "It's not my problem they stole your clothes."

"Oh, shut up."

He smiled, though it faded quickly. "I wonder what they want with us," he said after a moment.

"What do you mean?"

"Cyras wouldn't have let us live unless he wanted us for something. I know him; he never keeps excess baggage around."

"You mean that man in the white suit?"

Draco nodded. "That's him."

Ginny frowned. "So how do you know Cyras? And who is he, anyway? I've never seen him before."

"We did a few missions together in the past. You probably don't know him because he's not part of the Ministry."

"So he's a curse breaker like you?"

"Was." Draco rubbed a hand over his face, wincing when his fingers brushed against the claw marks carved into his skin. "The last time I saw him he was trading stolen artefacts on the black market. Shortly after, I got news that he had been killed. Seems I was misinformed."

"I wonder why he's working with those dragon worshippers," Ginny mused, propping her chin on her knees. "He doesn't seem the type to go for old African religions."

"He's not. No doubt he hoped they would help him find the artefact," Draco responded, leaning back against the wall. "The thing with Cyras is that he was never good at getting magical relics himself. He's intelligent, but when it comes to actually applying what he's learned, he always falls short. Of course, he's very good at persuading other people to do his dirty work."

"How very astute of you, Draco," Cyras praised, clapping his hands with lazy amusement as he walked into the cavern.

Ginny swung around in fright. She had not even heard the stone move.

"Oh, don't look so alarmed, my dear," Cyras responded, smiling kindly at her. "I have no intention of sacrificing you to any more dragons. You've done your part beautifully and can now enjoy the rest of the show."

"What the hell are you talking about?" Ginny demanded, glowering at him.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" He laughed. "Come, come, I expected better from the Ministry's best."

"Enough with the games, Cyras," Draco snapped. "What do you want with us?"

Cyras smoothed back his wavy brown hair, which was seen to be lightly flecked with grey upon closer inspection. "Why it is exactly as you said, my boy. I need someone to do my dirty work, and who better than the dear companion of my old curse breaker days."

Draco gave a dry laugh. "I'm not going to help you."

"Oh, but you already have helped me, Draco. You got rid of that overgrown serpent for me, just as I knew you would."

All trace of amusement died out of the blond's grey eyes. "You set us up."

"But of course," Cyras said with a small bow of acknowledgement. "I had to remove the dragon protecting the deeper part of the catacombs somehow, and since you so conveniently decided to come to Timbuktu with your little red-haired wench here, you made it that much easier for me. It wasn't difficult to persuade the Ouagadou-Bida worshippers that the only way to save their city was to sacrifice the foreign woman to their god. Then it was just a matter of waiting for you to sweep in like a good hero and kill the dragon that would harm your damsel in distress."

"You mean you were just using me as bait the whole time?" Ginny demanded angrily

"I'm afraid so, my dear. You see, only the sword of Amadou Sefedokote can destroy Ouagadou-Bida."

Her brow wrinkled in confusion. "The sword of what?"

"Why don't you explain, Draco?" Cyras suggested. "You were the one who was given the sword, after all."

Ginny looked expectantly at Draco.

"Amadou Sefedokote was the first to slay the original Ouagadou-Bida," Draco explained, never removing his eyes from Cyras's smiling face. "His fiancée, Sia, was going to be sacrificed to the dragon, as was the custom of their people, but he would not allow this and attacked the dragon – removing its head seven times before it was finally killed. Both he and Sia fled after that and were never heard of again. However, legend has it that Sefedokote placed a powerful spell on his sword, ensuring – even after his own death – that if Ouagadou-Bida should rise again and the ritual of human sacrifices be restored, he would grant the warrior willing to save the victim the power of his sword and so vanquish the serpent."

"Ah, but it is not just a legend, my boy," Cyras commented, fondly tapping the blade attached to his hip. "Today you proved the rumours to be true."

"So it would seem," Draco responded through gritted teeth.

"Well, that's all very fascinating," Ginny said with awful civility, turning her attention back to Cyras, "but don't you think you were leaving rather a lot up to chance? What would you have done had Malfoy not got to me in time or if we had both been killed by the dragon?"

"Oh, I had full confidence that Draco would come to your rescue as soon as he discovered your plight," Cyras replied, brushing an imaginary speck of dirt off his suit. "He's really quite loyal underneath that selfish demeanour of his, and so very clever at putting two and two together. Naturally, I made it as easy for him as possible to find you; I even sent a few guards to lead the way for him should he get lost."

"How thoughtful of you," Ginny interposed, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Yes, I thought so too," he said with a beatific smile. "As to the dragon killing either one or the both of you – well, it would have been a shame, of course, but no great loss. I would have found another way to get past the dragon eventually."

She clenched her hands into fists. "So you were just going to let me die?"

"My dear, I don't see why you're getting so upset. Draco did manage to kill the dragon and rescue you, so there's really no reason for you to be complaining."

"Why you little—" Ginny began furiously, then broke off as she caught Draco's eye, who gave her an admonitory look. She pressed her lips together and folded her arms. "You're lucky I don't have my wand," she settled for instead.

Cyras chuckled, unmoved by her threats or her glowering countenance. "What a little spitfire you are. Yes, I think you would have been wasted on that dragon. Perhaps I will find a use for you, after all. I'm going to create a great empire, you know."

Ginny let out a derisive snort. "A great empire? This is the twenty-first century. You try setting yourself up an empire and you'll have the whole world coming after you – Muggle and magical."

"Not if I go about it the right way," he responded simply.

Draco frowned. "Just what are you planning, Cyras?"

"You must be losing your touch, dear boy. I was certain you would have guessed by now. Or have you forgotten what the artefact we're looking for actually does?"

Ginny stared at the two men warily. "What's he talking about, Malfoy?"

"You don't know?" Cyras exclaimed in surprise. "Then let me enlighten you, my dear. The item you have been so blindly searching for is one of the most powerful objects of ancient lore known to wizarding history. It has many names, but most know it simply as the Dragon Skull. Not the most inspiring of titles to be sure, but it is said that when you look into the eyes of the serpent, you will see what your heart desires above all else. However, unlike the fabled Mirror of Erised, you will also be shown the way to gain that desire – even if that means going back in time. The man who has such an object for his use would be more than powerful. Wielded the right way, he could become invincible."

"What makes you think you'll do any better than the people who tried to use it in the past?' Draco retorted, unimpressed. "You'll fall just like the rest of them."

"I find that unlikely," Cyras said with an indulgent smile. "The Tuareg wizards who found the Dragon Skull were only concerned with finding fertile land and water; they never realised the object's true potential. Those who took possession of it centuries later used it to attain gold and any other profitable trade item they could find; all they cared about was making Timbuktu a powerful city, too afraid to aim for anything grander. And then those peace-loving Islamic scholars decided one day that it was wrong for them to have such power – that it was too dangerous and would only bring pain to their beloved people. So the catacombs were built and the Dragon Skull was hidden away, disguised beneath the Sankore Mosque like an old relic in a rotting tomb."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, and then the Moroccans came in search of it and destroyed the empire, taking over Timbuktu and executing most of the scholars. We all know the story, Cyras, but if you think the city fell because the artefact was hidden away, you're wrong; it fell because the Dragon Skull existed in the first place."

"I suppose you think you're very wise," Cyras mused, his pale eyes glinting with amusement, "but just think about it for a moment. Think of all the possibilities. We could achieve so much with the Dragon Skull on our side. There would be nothing to stop us! Why, we could even rewrite history if we wanted to!"

Draco laughed scornfully. "_We_? Do you really think I would join you in this mad scheme of yours? That artefact does nothing but bring destruction. Every desire you attain through it has a cost, and those costs would be high for a man of your ambitions."

Cyras's eyes narrowed. "You mean to frighten me off, but I'm not scared of your paltry threats." He flicked back his hair, his expression smoothing to its usual pompous arrogance. "I had been meaning to offer you a place by my side, Draco, but I see it is futile. No matter, you will play to my piping soon enough."

The blond merely raised an eyebrow. "I think not. Since you're here talking to me at all, you obviously still need my help for something. In fact, I distinctly recall you saying you needed me to do your dirty work, so I can only imagine there is something else protecting the artefact besides the dragon that you did not count on. You already know I'm not going to join you, and since I have an incurable dislike of being forced to do things, you'll just have to remove whatever it is yourself."

Cyras laughed softly, though he looked far from amused. "You know, Draco, I've always admired your indomitable nature, but I'm afraid this time it is proving to be nothing more than an unwanted nuisance."

"How unfortunate for you."

"Oh, no, dear boy, it is unfortunate for you. You see, you're quite right that there was more than Ouagadou-Bida guarding the Dragon Skull. And since you can't expect me to risk my life to get rid of it, I'm afraid you're just going to have to put your understandable scruples aside and do what I ask of you, because if you don't—" He smiled, showing every one of his perfect teeth until his mouth almost seemed to curl into a snarl. "Well, dear boy, if you don't, your little friend here may just end up in pieces after all."

Ginny gasped as she was suddenly pulled to her feet and trapped in a surprisingly strong grip.

"No!" Draco exclaimed before he could stop himself, reaching out to her as if he might pull her back.

Cyras's eyes lit up with dawning glee, knowing he had hit the jackpot. "Well, well," he drawled, pressing his wand to her neck, a lazy smile touching his lips, "it seems I have found a use for her after all."

Draco let his hand drop back to his side, clenching it into a tight fist so that his knuckles burned white. His eyes found Ginny's, and she could see the mixture of frustration and helplessness burning in his grey irises. It was strangely comforting to know he cared enough about her wellbeing to actually show his distress in that normally imperturbable face of his.

"Ah, but how touching," Cyras observed. "Such a speaking exchange of glances – it almost moves me to tears. I would hate to ruin such a perfect moment, so do be a good boy, Draco, and do what your elder says, or those pretty brown eyes of hers might just have to go."

A muscle twitched in Draco's jaw. "What do you want me to do?"

"I knew you would come around," Cyras said, pleased. "You always were so dedicated to protecting defenceless females."

"Just get on with it," the blond retorted harshly.

"Very well. The wizards who created the catacombs have placed ancient traps and curses all around the room where the Dragon Skull is being kept. With all your youth and expertise, I'm sure it would be no problem for you to get past them. You are the best, after all."

"That's it?'

"That's it," Cyras affirmed. "Though, naturally if you fail, the girl will have to die."

"Well, it sounds like you've thought of everything," Ginny said quietly, turning slightly in his slackened hold to face the older man. "But you did miscalculate one thing."

"And what is that?" Cyras responded with another of his indulgent smiles.

She grinned, curling her fingers around the hilt of the sword attached to his hip. "I'm not a defenceless female!"

In one fluid motion she had wrenched the sword from its scabbard and thrust it into his chest, driving the blade through flesh and bone as if it were butter. He gave a sharp, awful gasp – as if all the breath had been squeezed out of his lungs – and then he stumbled backwards, his wand dropping to the floor from his suddenly loosened grip. Ginny broke free from his hold and kicked him in the stomach, sending him flailing to the ground, the sword still stuck in his chest. She snatched up his wand and aimed it at his face, breathing heavily as she tried to catch her breath.

"Check to see if he has our wands," Ginny ordered the blond.

Draco nodded, quickly gathering his wits together, and went over to the wounded man to search his pockets. Cyras latched a hand around Draco's wrist, staring up at him with wild eyes.

"You won't get away with this," he rasped, blood gurgling out of his mouth. "They'll all come after you."

Draco wrenched his wrist free and grabbed the two wands from Cyras's pocket. He tossed Ginny hers and then stood away from the older man, his expression blank.

Cyras's eyes widened in alarm. "What are you doing?"

"Let's go," the blond said calmly, placing a hand on Ginny's back to lead her out of the cavern.

"How dare you ignore me! I spared your lives!"

Ginny looked back at him contemptuously. "Spared our lives? You were just using us because you didn't want to get your hands dirty, and you know it. Face it, old man," she said with spiteful relish, "the game is up. You've lost."

"I don't think so. You'll never be able to find the Dragon Skull without me." His eyes fastened on the blond. "You need me, Draco – you know you do."

Draco turned to look at the older man, a faint smile touching his lips. "Don't flatter yourself, Cyras. I've never needed your help for anything. You've always been second-rate, and you will die second-rate." He turned back to Ginny. "Come on, Weasley."

"You can't leave me like this!" Cyras screamed, his face reddening with anger. "_Draco_!"

The two exited the cavern, and Draco used his wand to roll the stone back over the cavern, muffling the screams still coming from the man trapped inside.

"He'll die if you leave him there," Ginny muttered, feeling a little uncomfortable at the thought of another man's blood on her hands, despite how much she loathed said man.

"He deserves it," Draco said shortly. "Besides, we don't have time to be worrying about Cyras. We need to get the Dragon Skull before it's discovered we've escaped."

"You mean you're still going to try and get that thing?"

"That is what we came here to do." A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth. "Why, feeling scared?"

"No," she responded stoutly, holding her chin high. "I'm ready to look for this relic whenever you are."

"Then let's go."

Ginny followed Draco back into the maze of tunnels. They didn't have to worry about creating their own light so they could see more clearly, for someone had cast the spell to trigger the torches jutting out of the walls. However, Ginny couldn't help but feel uneasy at the lack of opposition they came across. There had been so many of those dragon worshippers earlier, and now there seemed to be barely any.

The two came upon another junction. Ginny frowned at the blond, noting the way he hesitated before the different passageways.

"Perhaps we should have made Cyras lead us to the Dragon Skull, after all," she mused. "It's obvious you don't have any idea where we're going."

He glared at her. "I have some idea."

"Oh, really, then which way do we go?" she responded tartly.

Draco stared at the three tunnels. "The middle one, of course."

Her eyebrow lifted. "You just chose that at random, didn't you?"

"No."

"Yes you did." She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. "Let's just face it, Malfoy: we're lost. We have no idea what we're doing or where we are or even how we're going to get out of here."

"I _will_ find the way."

"Are you saying that because you think you might actually know or because your pride just can't handle the fact that you really have no clue?"

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Well, I don't see you exactly helping!"

"Hey, I'm not the curse breaker. I'm just your protector, remember?"

"Some protector," he scoffed.

She bristled with anger. "Excuse me? Have you forgotten already who just saved us from Cyras? I didn't see _you_ doing anything to help; you were just sitting there blabbering away like you always do."

Draco let out an exasperated breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Enough already! We're not going to get anywhere if we keep arguing like this!"

"You started it," she muttered, but fell silent at his reproachful look.

"Alright," he began much more calmly, "there has to be a way to figure out where the Dragon Skull is being kept."

"Well, if you ask me, I say we should take the left tunnel."

"And why do we want to be taking the left tunnel?" he asked in a voice that suggested he didn't put much stock in her idea.

"Because there's a more intense feeling of magic down there," she said simply. "Can't you sense it?"

"Weasley, if it was as simple as sensing for the artefact's source of magic, anyone with a brain could—" He broke off, a stunned expression coming to his face. "Wait a minute," he muttered, taking a step towards the left tunnel. "I _can_ sense it."

Ginny smiled smugly. "I told you."

"Why didn't you tell me earlier?" he demanded, rounding on her.

"I thought you would have realised. You are supposed to be the brains of this operation, after all."

He glared at her and then, very slowly, a reluctant smile graced his lips. "I suppose I did deserve that one."

"Yes you did," she said bluntly, "but I'll forgo teasing you for now. We'd better get moving. I can hear more people coming."

He nodded and dragged her down the left tunnel, this time relying on his natural affinity with magic to figure out which direction they should go. Eventually they came to a wall with a snarling dragon etched into the stone.

"This is it," Draco said confidently.

"It does look like it," Ginny observed, peering at the drawing, which greatly resembled the dragon that had tried to kill her earlier. "How are we going to get behind it?"

"Give me a minute," he muttered, and proceeded to perform what looked like some very complicated spells.

She sighed, knowing he was probably going to be there for a while, and looked about the cavern. There was not much difference between this room and all the others, apart from the etching on the wall. The wizards who had designed the catacombs had clearly meant it to be like a maze – a very brown, rugged and ugly maze. She wondered how she and Draco were ever going to make it out to the surface.

The sound of hurried footsteps caught her ears, and she turned to face the tunnel they had just come from, a slight frown creasing her brow.

"Er, Malfoy—"

"Shut up!" Draco snapped, not looking at her. "I'm trying to concentrate!"

"Yes, I know, but—"

He rounded on her, his eyes flashing angrily. "_What_?"

"I believe we're about to be attacked," she explained, gesturing to the tunnel where the sound of several feet pounding against earth was getting louder."

He swore under his breath and turned back to the wall. "Cover me."

"What?"

"I said cover me, damn it! I'm going to try and break this wall, but I'll need to remove the rest of the curses protecting it first. You hold them off for as long as you can."

"And what happens when you break the wall?" she asked sarcastically. "You think the people chasing us are just going to disappear?"

"I'll figure that out later," he retorted, pushing her non-too-gently towards the tunnel. "You just make sure no one gets too close."

"Oh, sure, I'll just take on a whole army of religious zealots by myself," Ginny said with false cheeriness. "It'll be no trouble at all."

"That's the spirit," Draco said offhandedly, and turned his attention back to the wall.

Ginny glared at the back of his head and then, when he continued to ignore her, heaved an exaggerated sigh and faced the tunnel again. "I almost think I'd take one of mum's ghastly stews and all the respectable men in the world over this," she muttered under her breath.

The footsteps got even louder, to the point where she could almost make out the different sets of feet. She swallowed, her confident expression wavering slightly, and took a firmer grip on her wand.

"Come on, Lady Luck," she whispered, "don't fail me now."

There was a moment where all was still and she could only hear the erratic pounding of her heart. The flames flickered along the walls, casting an eerie light over the brown, tomb-like cavern, and then the first cloaked figure came through the opening, firing a killing curse at her without warning. She threw herself to the ground, dodging the green light just in time, and sprang back to her feet with a rapid _Stupefy_. The man keeled over like a log, only to be replaced by three more.

Ginny swore and fired three disarming spells. Two of the men were easily disarmed, but the third deflected her spell and reacted with a nasty slashing hex. She was too slow to use a shield charm, and though she tried to move out of the way, the hex still caught her arm, piercing into her skin like a hot knife. She countered with another stunning spell, which finally hit its mark, and then cast two body-binding curses at the unarmed men.

There was a lull in the onslaught, and she glanced down at her arm, her face paling as she saw the alarming amount of crimson streaming out of the wound. There wasn't enough time to heal it properly, so she used a basic healing spell to pinch the skin together, and then let out a strangled oath as a jet of purple light almost collided with her face. Her heart jolted wildly in her chest as she stared at the ruined crevice of rock and dirt that could have been her head. It was lucky the person had bad aim.

She swung around to confront the newcomer, meeting his malicious dark eyes. Another man came out from behind him, and she gritted her teeth, knowing that sooner or later she was going to be overwhelmed. Too much had already happened that day, and she could feel herself growing weaker.

"Hurry, Malfoy!" she urged. "I can't hold them off much longer."

As if to prove her point, the men fired two killing curses at once, both of which she only just managed to dodge. She let out a shaky breath, barely managing to pull her wits together before another curse, which seemed to consist of black crosses, was fired at her from seemingly out of nowhere. It hit her full in the chest, knocking the wind out of her and leaving her gasping painfully for air. She grabbed at the wall, holding herself up, and looked down to see tiny red lines forming all over her upper-body, which then distorted as the red began to thicken and elongate, mixing with the other lines to stain her skin a deep red.

"Oh, gods," Ginny whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks.

There was a loud buzzing in her ears. She could feel herself growing faint, and a distant part of her brain noted that the three men had turned on Draco and were raising their wands as if to strike. She pulled herself together, clenching her fingers tightly around her wand, and managed to stun all three of the wizards before they could attack. A satisfied smile came to her lips, and then she faltered, her body swaying helplessly as the buzzing intensified in her ears.

"I got it!" Draco exclaimed, stepping back from the wall, which promptly crumbled away to reveal a new opening.

Ginny barely registered that he had spoken. It felt as if she was no longer part of her body, like she was somehow looking down upon herself. She thought she would try to walk, just to see if her body would move with her, but then the whole cavern seemed to compress, and she suddenly found herself falling. There was a moment where Draco and the cavern ceased to exist, and then her head cracked against the ground, snapping her back to reality as needles of pain flooded through her nerves.

"Weasley!" Draco exclaimed, falling to his knees beside her. He saw the blood blossoming out of the criss-crossed wounds on her chest and stomach and let out a strangled oath. "Damn it, why didn't you tell me you were hurt?"

"Y-you weren't l-listening," she said with a weak smile, and then started coughing as she choked on her own blood.

Draco ran an agitated hand through his hair, his expression far from calm. "Alright, we can fix this. Everything's going to be fine, Weasley. Just hang in there, okay?"

"I'm f-fine. Di . . . didn't you see me get rid of all t-those people back there?" She grasped his wrist with bloody fingers, and her eyes, though hazy, still managed to focus on his. "And you s-said I wasn't a good protector," she taunted, laughing a little.

He swallowed, trying to ease the sudden dryness of his throat. "Well, you certainly proved me wrong this time, Weasley."

"I did, didn't I?" she murmured, turning her face away, a rather vacant smile hovering at her lips.

Draco frowned. She was getting delirious, and would probably be completely lost to him if she kept losing blood at the rate she was now. He tried his best to heal her wounds, but it was a dark curse that had been used, and the cuts remained stubbornly open.

"Damn it!" he hissed, slamming his fist on the ground. "I don't know what to do! Tell me what I can do!"

Ginny's hand closed over his. "D-don't . . . wo-worry about . . . G-get . . . dr-dra . . . skull."

He leaned over her anxiously. "What?"

"Th-the skull. Get the skull," she gasped before quietly fainting away.

Draco stared at her unconscious form, his own body trembling slightly. He clenched his hands into fists and shifted his gaze to the cloaked figures littering the cavern. He bound the men with ropes, making sure none of them could try to hurt Ginny again or come after him once the stunning spells and binding hexes wore off. He then leaned back over the redhead and placed her in a more comfortable position.

"Don't you go dying now, Weasley," he told her sternly. "I'll have you know that I've never had a partner die on a mission with me yet, and I don't plan on having that record broken today just because you decided to go and get yourself mortally wounded."

He frowned as the silent seconds ticked on, realising it just wasn't the same when she didn't make one of her snippy retorts. And just like that, he knew he had to save her, no matter what the cost. She was an irritating partner to be around sometimes, but she was _his_ irritating partner.

Draco stood up and faced the new opening he had created. It was too dark for him to see what was inside the room, but he knew the Dragon Skull was somewhere in there – that simple relic that had caused so much war and misery, and which even now was the reason his partner was currently lying in a pool of her own blood not a few feet away from him.

He let out a deep breath and walked forward, hesitating a moment outside the entrance. "_Lumos_," Draco whispered, lighting the tip of his wand.

The light revealed a small path, embraced on either side by an abyss that seemed to go on forever. He stepped onto the path, his light somehow feeble and suffocated by the thick darkness that surrounded him. He hesitated again, casting one last look at Ginny, and then he walked slowly forward until he was swallowed by the shadows.


	4. Through the Eyes of the Serpent

**Through the Eyes of the Serpent**

Draco had known as soon as he had walked into the thick darkness that he was no longer in the catacombs. A chill had crept into his blood, and his body had tingled with a strange magic that was neither human nor familiar. This was a space in between – a liminal zone separating the earthly and the unknown. Somehow, he got the sense that this was the real Timbuktu – that mythical place where time and decay did not exist.

A breath of cool air circled around him, and the light illuminating from his wand dwindled into nothing. He stood there in the darkness, listening to the sound of his own fragmented breathing and quickening heart. The path he was standing on was narrow, and though he knew the room he was in was not governed by the rules of his own world, he was quite certain that if he fell into the abyss hugging either side of him, he would surely die.

"_Lumos_," Draco whispered.

He felt the magic thrum through his veins, passing into his wand, yet nothing happened. There was no light.

His breathing sharpened, and he swallowed and then took a cautious step forward, followed by another and then another. It was disconcerting to walk on something he couldn't even see, not knowing what was ahead of him or even if the path continued straight, but he couldn't turn back now; he had to keep moving forward.

It seemed aeons that he walked blindly in the darkness. His foot slipped once or twice, but he managed to steady himself and keep walking. Finally, he felt his boots come down against a new texture of ground, the sound like gravel crunching under his heel. There was shift in the air, and then light flooded around him, bursting from the mouths of the torches fixed into the walls. The light dimmed to an orange glow as the flames burned more steadily, and Draco saw for the first time that he was standing on a circular platform with tiny chips of gold scattered over it, so that it sparkled dully in the torchlight. He also discovered that every inch of the walls were made of gold, and etched onto that gold were murals of people and old African stories and legends.

Draco stared in wonder, turning slowly on the spot as he took in the sheer intricacy and detail of the drawings. One in particular caught his eye: a dragon skull made of what looked like a reddish coloured diamond, which was being worshipped by hundreds of Africans.

"So that's it," he murmured, gazing into the empty sockets of the dragon's eyes.

He turned away from the wall and faced the path that continued ahead of him. Thankfully, it was much wider than the stone path he had first walked on. At the end, he could see an archway barricaded with blue flames. The Dragon Skull had to be in there.

Draco stepped onto the new path, but as soon as his foot hit the stone, he heard a small click. He froze, heart pounding in his chest, and then a sharp slither of wind blew towards him and he ducked just in time to avoid being decapitated by a very large scythe. He swore under his breath and started running at full sprint towards the archway, even as more scythes rushed towards him from seemingly out of nowhere. A giant pillar came at him from the side, and he threw himself to the ground, rolling underneath it, and sprang back to his feet again only to be greeted by a flurry of sinister looking darts. He cast a Shield Charm over himself, and the darts bounced harmlessly off the shield, scattering the ground like golden snow.

"How many of these bloody things are there?" he exclaimed, barely avoiding another scythe, and leaping over a gap in the path where sharp spikes stuck out like teeth below.

He landed half-crouched on the other side, then sprang back into action, running, dodging and jumping wherever needed to evade the traps the wizards had set in place. Not for nothing was Draco the best curse breaker England had: he had a natural instinct for recognising the patterns used in booby traps, and he was quick on his feet, blessed with an almost catlike agility. Of course, that didn't stop him from wishing he had tested the room for traps before he stepped onto the path.

Draco saw that the archway was barely four feet away from him. He increased his speed, and then two pillars suddenly rushed towards him, both at different heights. He didn't stop to think and threw himself forward, slipping through the gap between the pillars just before they could crush his head and legs. There was a moment where he was simply gliding through the air, and then he came in contact with the blue flames blocking the archway and he suddenly knew what it felt like to be burned with frozen fire.

His skin seared with pain, beginning with his head, and then spreading to his toes as he passed through the flames. Before he could really get used to the feeling of having his flesh blister with heat, the burning sensation was then fused with the sharp bite of ice. His very blood seemed to freeze in his veins, making his heart slow and his chest flare with the deepest of agony, as if little knives were being stabbed into him over and over again.

Draco collapsed against the ground, gasping for air, and feeling painfully crippled. He rolled onto his back, staring at the strangely corporeal darkness above him, and tried to ignore the dizzy ringing in his ears. His body was still crawling with the touch of fire and ice, but when he actually stared at his hands and chest, there were no blisters or rawness, or indeed any sign that he had just passed through magical flames. As he relaxed more, the pain itself began to fade until it was only a dull ache, though, admittedly, he still felt rather shaken.

He pushed himself into a sitting position and, with a small groan, finally managed to get back onto his feet. He stumbled slightly as he took a step forward, then paused as he saw the Dragon Skull on a circular platform in the centre of the room. The cavern itself was quite large, if only because of the abyss that surrounded the small path leading to the platform. A ghostly light shone down from the ceiling – though he could see no source – and lit the dais where the skull was resting, making it sparkle with a sinister, bloody gleam. At the front of the platform, barring the way to the dais, was a statue of a warrior holding a deadly sword. The statue itself seemed to be made of mud, but the sword was most definitely metal.

Draco swallowed and walked forward, eyeing the statue warily. He had experienced enough today to know that the chances were it was going to come alive, and he was not disappointed. He had not taken more than two steps onto the platform when the statue's soulless eyes gleamed red and it lunged towards him with its sword. Draco side-stepped the blade, almost tumbling backwards off platform in the process, and then fired a blasting spell with his wand. Nothing happened.

He swore and tried another spell, but there were no flashes of light, no hum of magic travelling through his fingers. At that moment, his wand really was just a useless piece of wood in his hands, and he himself was as non-magical as a Muggle.

Now he knew what the blue flames had done to him: they had removed his magic, leaving him completely vulnerable to the statue charging towards him. Draco didn't even have Amadou Sefedokote's sword to protect himself with. All he had was his two bare fists, and he didn't think that was going to do much.

The statue let out a roar of triumph and swung at Draco's face with the sword. The blond dropped his wand and put his hands out instinctively, grabbing the blade to hold it back. He could feel the sharp steel cutting into his palms and fingers as he struggled with the statue, releasing the blood trapped under his flesh. Crimson streamed down his hands, tracing the veins on his arms and making the sword itself slick with blood. His grip slackened and he knew he would have to let go or risk losing his fingers altogether.

With an anguished yell, Draco kicked the statue in its midriff and quickly released the sword, though not quite fast enough to avoid creating an even deeper cut across his hands. The statue stumbled backwards and, without even really thinking, Draco charged at it, ramming into its chest and pushing it back even further. It was over in a flash: the statue wobbled for a moment on the edge of the platform, trying to get its balance, and then it fell, tumbling deep into the abyss below.

Draco watched it sink out of sight and then collapsed in exhaustion to his knees, panting as he tried to catch his breath. He felt a surge of warmth travel through his veins and knew, without even knowing how, that his magic had returned. He crawled over to where he had dropped his wand and healed his mangled hands, letting out a small hiss of pain, yet also relief, as the cuts sealed and his skin became smooth once more.

Draco stood up and walked over to the dais, careful this time to check there were no curses stopping him from touching it. There were none – obviously the people who had created this place felt the person who got past so many obstacles deserved a respite. However, even with this reassuring knowledge, he still removed the skull very gingerly from the dais and cast an anxious look around, half-expecting the walls to start crumbling down around him. They didn't, and he let out a deep sigh of relief.

Clutching the skull safely to his chest, he headed back towards the archway. As he drew closer to the flames, the skull's empty eye sockets gleamed slightly and the flames vanished in a puff of blue smoke. Surprised, but certainly not complaining, Draco walked through the archway and received another shock as the path of traps and swinging scythes faded away to be replaced with a simple walkway of gold, leading to the circular platform where he had first seen the murals. It almost looked like someone was standing on the platform, and was that a person hovering over the abyss?

Truly alarmed now, Draco hurried along the path and let out a strangled oath when he saw that it was indeed a person floating above the abyss, and that person was a woman with very familiar red hair. He swung around to face the other figure on the platform, his eyes narrowing as he met Cyras's haggard but triumphant face.

"Pleasure to see you again, Draco," Cyras gritted out, his mouth pulled into a twisted half-grin, half-grimace.

"I can't say the same for you," the blond retorted, clenching his wand tightly.

He wasn't sure how Cyras had got out of that room, but it was clear the older man had not been able to heal the wound Sefedokote's sword had created, even with the stolen wand clutched in his blood-stained hands.

Cyras gave a laugh, which then turned into a hacking cough. "That's right, you thought you'd killed me. How disappointing it must be for you to find you were wrong, and just when you thought you had succeeded in getting the Dragon Skull too. But, then, I did say you would not win."

Draco's jaw tightened. "I'm not giving you the skull."

"Oh? Then I suppose you don't care if I drop your little friend here into the chasm," Cyras responded, making a show of letting Ginny slip just a fraction.

Draco's eyes anxiously followed the movement, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Drop her and I swear I'll throw the skull down to join her."

Cyras's smile froze on his lips and an ugly expression twisted his normally pleasant features. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Wouldn't I?"

For a moment they just glared at each other, and then Cyras gave a wry laugh.

"I believe this is what they call an impasse," he observed, straightening to his full height.

"Well, I don't know about you," Draco drawled, "but I don't plan on staying here until one of us dies or your spell runs out and Weasley falls into the abyss. And, frankly, I've found your company tedious from the start and could quite do without it."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Cyras demanded, staring at him as if he were insane.

Draco laughed softly. "You know, sometimes you can be really stupid."

Cyras's eyes widened as an inkling of what was about to happen dawned on him, but Draco had already lunged towards him by then. Cyras fumbled with his wand, but it was too late. The blond's shoulder collided with his chest and then he was falling – falling right off the platform and into the darkness waiting to consume him below.

Draco wasted no time in checking to see what became of the older man and swung around to cast a levitating charm at Ginny, who had already gone into freefall as soon as Cyras's concentration had been broken. She came to an abrupt halt as the spell took effect, and then Draco used his magic to lift her back onto the platform, placing her carefully down so that she was lying flat on her back.

"Thank goodness for that," he muttered, sighing with relief as he sat down beside her.

For a moment he had thought he would not be quick enough to save her, but it seemed luck was on his side today.

"Well, Weasley," he said, glancing down at her, "I think we finally did it."

She remained silent, still unconscious. He frowned, brushing the hair away from her face, and was suddenly struck by how cold her skin was. His heart gave a funny jolt in his chest, sensing what his mind had yet to fully comprehend, and then he finally noticed what he should have seen all along: she was no longer breathing.

"No," Draco murmured, gripping her by the shoulders and giving her a firm shake, as if hoping he could somehow reawaken the life inside her. "Come on, Weasley. Don't do this! Not now!"

Her head lolled to the side, resting at a sickening angle. She was not going to wake. She was never going to wake. It was a fact he refused to accept, but it rooted itself firmly in his mind, becoming more difficult to banish the longer he clutched her limp, unresponsive body in his arms.

They had only been partners for two days, but in that time they had experienced so much. Now, when they had come to the end of their mission and she was not there to make her idiotic comments, he felt no sense of triumph, no desire to celebrate. In a way, he almost wished he had thrown the Dragon Skull into the abyss; at least that way he would never have to look at it again and be reminded of the woman whose life it had stolen.

Draco paused, suddenly remembering something Cyras had mentioned:

"_When you look into the eyes of the serpent, you will see what your heart desires above all else . . . You will also be shown the way to gain that desire – even if that means going back in time."_

A flicker of an idea came to the blond. He picked up the Dragon Skull and held it up to his face, hesitating only a moment before he gazed into the empty eye sockets. At first, nothing happened, and then he saw an image form in his mind.

It was Ginny, and she was alive.

**XHX**

The sky was grey and oppressive as usual, but Draco didn't seem to mind. He avoided the puddles left over from the previous night's rain, not wanting to get his expensive boots wet, and walked up the small set of stairs to a house with a weather-beaten door. There was a rather ugly pot on the porch step with what might have been a plant sticking out of it, but which really resembled a shrivelled pile of twigs. He shook his head, unable to repress a smile.

Shifting his attention back to the door, Draco clutched the bouquet of roses tighter in his hand and then knocked briefly. There was a moment of silence, and then he could hear footsteps coming towards him from the other side. Without really knowing why, he straightened his already immaculate collar and smoothed down his coat. The door swung open and a woman with red hair and friendly brown eyes – though he normally saw them when they were flashing with anger – greeted him with a smile.

"Malfoy," she exclaimed, thrusting the door wide open and welcoming him inside, "I didn't expect to have you come and see me so soon. I thought you'd just send that horrid elf of yours with a condescending note or something."

"Hello to you too, Weasley," he responded, handing her the roses. "I see you're as charming as ever."

"Oh, roses!" Ginny exclaimed, snatching them into her hands and holding them up to her nose with delight. "You got me red ones, too! Those are my favourite." Her eyes met his over the bouquet, a slightly quizzical look on her face. "Now why did you get me flowers, I wonder?"

"Isn't that what people do when someone they know comes out of hospital? I expect this hovel you call a house will be filled with them by the end of the week."

"At least it will smell nice." She wrinkled her nose distastefully. "The house smells a bit musty at the moment."

"That's because no one has been living in it for so long."

"I know," Ginny sighed, putting the roses in a vase of water and sitting it on her bench. "I can't believe I was stuck in hospital for two weeks, and all because a stupid snake – which just happened to contain a rare type of poison in its fangs – bit me while I was waiting for you to break down that wall leading to the Dragon Skull."

"It certainly was unexpected," Draco said with perfect truth.

"It's funny, though," Ginny mused, more to herself. "Sometimes I have these dreams where it wasn't a snake at all and I'm lying there in a pool of my own blood, just waiting to die, but I know I have to keep fighting because you're going to come back and take me home. I keep fighting and fighting, except I can't do it. I can't hold on."

"I wouldn't worry about it, Weasley," he said, his voice surprisingly gentle. "They're just dreams."

"I guess you're right." She laughed suddenly. "In fact, I know you're right. You were acting far too distraught in my dreams when you saw how badly wounded I was."

"You think I wouldn't care if you were dying?"

She blushed at the intense look in his eyes and lowered her face, hiding her expression from view. "Well, I don't know. Would you?"

He took a step towards her, tilting her chin up with his forefinger and thumb so she had no choice but to meet his steady gaze.

"I think you're an awful woman, Weasley: you snore, talk far too much for my likings, ask too many idiotic questions, not to mention have no manners at all." He smiled at her affronted expression and ran his thumb lightly across her freckled cheek. "You've also saved my life more times than I can count, fight better than most of the men in the Ministry put together, and have quite captivated me with your ability to come out with biting retorts even when you're chained naked to a rock and are about to be eaten by a dragon."

"I'm flattered, I'm sure," she interposed dryly, though her face looked suspiciously pink.

He laughed, but then his expression went a bit more serious, and his hand shifted to cup her face. "We've been through a lot, Weasley. Merlin knows I hated you to begin with, but it's not the same now, is it?"

"No, it's not the same," she said quietly.

"Then surely you must understand."

"Understand what?"

He smiled and leaned forward, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers. "You really do love asking idiotic questions," he murmured, and then closed the distance between them.

She didn't respond at first, too shocked by his action, but as he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her closer, something seemed to sigh from deep within her and she relaxed into his embrace. The kiss was slow yet passionate, as if neither wanted to demand too much from the other too soon. Draco was content to simply enjoy the moment, taking his time to discover all the delightful tastes that was her kiss, knowing instinctively that this would be the first of many they would share, and there was no need to rush.

When they finally broke apart, however, he was not so certain. She stared at him critically, as if trying to decide whether she was pleased he had kissed her or not. He was confident enough in his abilities to know she had enjoyed it, and was arrogant enough to believe she would decide in his favour. But Ginny was an unpredictable person, and often did things he did not understand.

"Well, I wasn't expecting that," she said after a moment.

"I'm sorry if it was not what you wanted."

"No you're not," she responded bluntly, "though I do have one question."

He repressed a sigh. "What?"

"Did you kiss me because you actually like me or was it simply because I happen to have breasts and there's no one else readily available to you at the moment?"

"The former, though the breasts do help."

She cocked her head to the side, a half-grin curling her lips. "I can live with that."

"Good, because I wasn't going to leave until you agreed to have dinner with me, anyway."

"Prat."

"Ah," he said, waving a patronising finger, "but I'm a _handsome_ prat."

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Alright, blondie, don't get too carried away, or I might just change my mind about liking you."

He laughed, and then a slight frown creased his brow as it suddenly occurred to him that she had never actually agreed to his proposed date.

"That was a yes to dinner, right?" he asked, looking at her uncertainly.

"Yes, Draco," she responded, ushering him towards the door, "that was a yes. Now let me enjoy my first day out of hospital in peace, or I'll hex your pasty arse right back to Timbuktu!"


End file.
